


Farskate: A Story of Champions (and All Those Other People, Too)

by icepixie



Category: Farscape
Genre: Crack, F/F, F/M, Parody, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-01
Updated: 2003-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepixie/pseuds/icepixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for the Uncharted Territories' National Figure Skating Championships, with our favorite characters as the competitors. The only problem is that this competition is turning out rather like the 2002 Winter Olympics...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CRACK!FIC, Y'ALL. Footnotes, where applicable (I'm getting addicted to those little buggers), come at the bottom of their respective sections. This is set at some indeterminant point on the timeline, which means than any and all characters from the entire four seasons can--and do--show up. Even if they're dead.

_Monday, January 22_

It was two days before the 562703 (Sebacean calendar) Planet Farm Uncharted Territories Figure Skating National Championships were to begin. All the competitors had arrived on Moya, whose Terrace, once flooded and chilled, had won the bid to host the competition. It was to be four days of "Competition, Glory, Agony, Beauty, and Really Cute Butts." Or so it was advertised, anyway.

The pairs were on the ice for practice. Most of the spectators' attention was focused on the top contenders for gold: the teams of Aeryn Sun &amp; John Crichton, the reigning champions, and Princess Katralla &amp; Counsellor Tyno. The two teams were fierce rivals, due to how evenly they were matched and, in part, to the short time that John and Katralla had skated together before calling it quits and finding new partners. They were still uncomfortable sharing the same ice.

John and Aeryn were currently having problems on their new throw triple loop. Specifically, Aeryn was landing on her eema every time they tried it. After five incidences of this, Aeryn announced that her butt was getting cold and skated over to the boards to consult with her and John's coach.

Noranti, known in the skating world as "Granny," joined her skaters. She was wearing the requisite coaches' costume of a long fur coat and an expensive handbag. She seemed rather lost in her own world, kind of bopping around to music that only she could hear, but she did take hold of John's arms and positioned them in the correct way for the throw to be successful. However, after she had finished, she didn't let go. Rather, she began stroking his biceps and purring.

John quickly yanked his arms out of her grasp and took hold of Aeryn, who was beginning to look like she would gladly slice her coach's head off with a skate blade for such an impropriety with her man. They skated away from the boards and tried the throw jump again.

Half an hour later, the pairs session ended, and the ladies practice group came on to the ice. John was just about to leave the rink when he caught sight of one of the main contenders for the ladies' title, a tiny woman by the name of ro-NA. His jaw dropped practically to the floor, and he stared in awe for several long moments until Aeryn pulled on his arm.

"Put your eyes back in their sockets and let's go. We have to eat before the next practice." Her tone was sharp. *Why does he always fall for the other skaters?* she asked herself as she tugged at her partner. *Can't he see me when I'm right under his nose?*

In fact, John did "see" Aeryn. During long nights alone in his cell on Moya, he freely admitted to himself that he was in love with his partner. However, to his mind, her near-constant aggravation with him meant that she most definitely did not see him that way, and if he tried anything, he would probably get a skate blade in his head during a lift for his trouble. Thus, he had decided to appreciate the scenery--in more ways than one--when they attended competitions.

Aeryn finally dragged John off the ice, and they left the Terrace to the ladies.

* * *

A quiet rivalry had been going on between the reigning ladies' champion, Zotoh Zhaan, and the newcomer to Nationals, ro-NA. Just a few "near-misses," some showing up out of the blue when the other was setting up for a jump, that kind of thing. Zhaan had not expected the level of sophistication that ro-NA's skating showed, and decided to try another approach to psych the younger woman out a little. She usually frowned on the antics others used to try to break her own mental focus (which, with Zhaan being a tenth-level Pa'u, was rather hard to do), but when the competition was this good, she had no problems at all with employing some of those same tricks.

Ro-NA's music, a playful Hynerian composition that included lots of bubbling sounds and highlighted her youthful sparkle, began to play. As ro-NA started her run-through, Zhaan began to improvise to the music, a dopey expression plastered on her face. If anyone asked, she could say she was just working on her musicality.

Against all odds, Zhaan found, the little woman didn't seem to notice.

Zhaan decided to try something more intense. Blithely, she stroked backwards around the rink, pretending not to see ro-NA. At an aptly-timed crescendo in the music, she slammed into the other skater.

The collision knocked ro-NA down, but she was up again in less than a second. It was almost like her body was made of rubber. The bright smile the younger woman gave her as Zhaan apologized confused the hell out of the reigning champion. Perturbed, she slowly skated away in the opposite direction.

*Okay. So she has more jumps than me *and* she has nerves of steel. I need a plan.* Zhaan's train of thought ran on without her as she looked into the spectator seating. There, seated directly in her line of vision, was a rather scruffy Delvian wearing a hat and holding a violin case. He met her eyes and smiled. *Hmmm...*

* * *

Ice dance practice was scheduled after the ladies. This was only the second season together for the same-gender team of Joolushko Tunai Fenta Hovalis and Chiana (no last name), but they were quickly gaining on the previous year's winners, Mele-on Grayza and Miklo Braca. Grayza was beginning to sense that maybe, just maybe, her excessive eye makeup and hair in unnatural colors might not be enough to win this year. She and her partner might, just might, have to actually work for this competition.

When Braca slipped during the footwork sequence for the original dance, as he usually did, Grayza pulled him up by the collar and shoved her forehead to his. Braca gulped.

"Do you know how important this is?" Grayza asked. Braca nodded nervously. "It doesn't seem that way. You realize that if we lose to that second-rate Nebari and her Interion partner, we don't go to the Inter-Planetary Championships, and we slip *even* *more* in the rankings than we did last year? Do you want to come back a year later and not even be in the top twenty? Do you understand how *bad* that would be?" She shook her partner slightly to get her point across.

"Yes, ma'am," Braca managed to squeak out. "Whatever you say."

"Good." Abruptly, Grayza turned her head, smiled at Granny, their coach, and patted Braca's head. After another covert glare at the younger man, she pushed him away so they could do the footwork pass again.

* * *

Meanwhile, Chiana and Jool were practicing lifts for their free dance. Their program was unusual in that it included three lifts by each of the two girls. It was one of the benefits of being a same-gender pair.

Grayza and Braca paused to watch the young team. "There has to be a way to stop them," Grazya fumed. Suddenly, she, too, caught sight of the scruffy Delvian with a hat and a violin case. "Braca?"

Her partner faced her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Go talk to that man over there. See what he can do about our...difficulty."

"With pleasure, ma'am." Braca began to skate towards the stands.

* * *

That night there was a competitors' ball, sponsored by the Uncharted Territories Figure Skating Association and the Inter-Planetary Skating Union. The heads of these two organizations--Moya's Pilot and Rygel XVI, respectively--were on hand, or onscreen as it may be, to open the dinner in the mess hall.

Rygel floated up in his hoverthrone beside Pilot's clamshell viewer and banged a knife against a glass. When that didn't work, he yelled "Shut up, you lot! We're supposed to open the competition here!"

Gradually, an annoyed quiet settled over the competitors, their coaches, and various officials from the UTFSA.

Pilot began, "As the president of the Uncharted Territories Figure Skating Association, I'd like to welcome you all to Moya. Everyone involved in the organization of this competition would first of all like to wish all the competitors good luck. Second, we have made every effort to ensure that every competitor will have an equal opportunity at succ--"

"The short version of what he's trying to say," interrupted Rygel, "is don't try anything, because we have enough security to make sure it won't happen. Now, I'm starving. Where's the food?"

With that, several DRDs dragged out buffet tables laden with dishes from around the galaxy. Dinner passed relatively painlessly, possibly because careful planning had seen that no rivals were seated at the same table, and it wasn't long until the DRDs returned to clear away the tables and Little Blue began to DJ the dance.

It wasn't long before Aeryn noticed two of the competitors in the men's championship making their ways toward her from opposite sides of the mess hall. "Oh, hell," she muttered, and scurried over to John in case she had to do what she thought she might have to do.

Larraq and Velorek were not to be thwarted, though, and each approached Aeryn at the same time. After glaring at each other in a sickening display of machismo (it always seemed to affect the male singles skaters...), they both said, "Hello, Aeryn."

Aeryn attempted diplomacy. She would much rather have cut to the chase and told them to frell off, but nationals were going to last a week, and it was only the first night. "Hello."

"I saw part of the pairs practice today," Velorek began. "Your positions in the lifts are exquisite."

"Ah, thank you," Aeryn replied, glancing at John. "I certainly couldn't do it without such good support." She smiled her cheesiest smile at her partner. Oh, they were all going to regret this soon...

John, somewhat perturbed by the soppy glance he was receiving from Aeryn, simply nodded and smiled gamely.

Larraq, never one for small talk, went for the direct approach. "Aeryn, I hope you will consider attending one of the parties after the gala with me at the end of the week."

Velorek had a feeling that this actually meant "alone in my room with me and some reslak," and was about to protest when Aeryn stopped them both cold.

"Sorry, boys, I already have plans." She stood up on her toes and kissed a very shocked John lightly on the mouth. "Don't we, dear?"

It took a moment for John to regain heart and lung function. "Uh...we sure do, sweetheart."

The expressions on Larraq's and Velorek's faces were priceless. Without a word, they turned and walked away from John and Aeryn, looking somewhat like dejected puppies. Dejected puppies that were glaring at each other with an even fiercer intensity than before.

*That is not my problem,* Aeryn told herself. She looked up at John, who still wore a confused expression. *This, on the other hand, is.* She waved her hand in front of John's face, and he slowly came back to the land of the aware.

"Uh, Aeryn?"

"Yes, John?"

"Was that just a ploy to get them off your back, or is there something you'd like to tell me?"

With an opening like that, what could you do but...

"No, just a convenient opportunity to get rid of them for the rest of the week."

...blow it all to hell?

"Oh. Ooookay."

Dammit.

* * *

In addition to the puzzling exchange with his partner, John was to have another surprise at the dance. Out of the blue, his old friend and training partner, DK, showed up and tapped him on the back.

After much slapping on the back and other human greetings, John asked, "So you're competing in singles here?" DK nodded. "Huh. When did you switch allegiance to the UTFSA?"

"When the competition back home got too tough, that's when. You seen those Russian guys? I can barely hang on to my quad toe, and they're working on flips. There's no way I'd get to Inter-planetaries if I competed back on Earth."

He had a point, and it certainly wasn't the first time someone had switched nationalities to skate for a federation less advanced in one's area of competition. Besides, it wasn't exactly like the UTFSA had any sort of citizenship requirements anyway.

"So other than changing federations behind my back, what else have you been up to?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Wednesday, January 24. Evening._

After another day of practices, the evening was home to the pairs short program. As usual, Aeryn was pissed at John. John wasn't sure why this was the case this particular time, since he hadn't even seen Aeryn outside of their practices for the past two days. Instead, he'd been halfheartedly chasing ro-NA in an attempt at taking his own advice to "enjoy the scenery."

But what the hell. The music for their short program was entitled "Clubbed to Death," so maybe a little tension would be good for their presentation marks.

"You ready?" he asked his partner, stopping himself from reaching over to rest a hand on her leather-clad shoulder. On Earth, their costumes of black leather with accents of red would have been considered less than traditional, but here...well, the judges had seen stranger things. Granny, Aeryn, and pretty much any female in the vicinity had also declared that the pants "really show off your ass," especially on back crossovers.

Going against her will to stay mad at her partner for being so dense, Aeryn spared him a smile. "Yeah."

Polite applause indicated that the final set of marks had been read for the team that had just skated. John and Aeryn, who had drawn the penultimate lot in the skate order, were next. They joined hands and stepped up to the boards, then glided to the center of the rink with thunderous applause ringing in their ears.

*And this is even *before* we skate,* John thought. *Please don't let us screw up...*

They positioned themselves into their opening pose, standing facing each other, Aeryn's arms raised to the sky, John lightly grasping her around the waist, and waited for their music to begin.

The first piano notes rung through the hush of hundreds of spectators waiting for magic to happen on the ice in front of them...or a spectacular fall. They weren't picky.

However, John and Aeryn were determined not to give them the satisfaction of the latter. The commentators for UT-TV couldn't find anything negative to say about the performance. Every element was textbook-perfect, from the two side-by-side jumps to the throw triple loop, the split double twist to the back outside edge death spiral, and of course the lifts. It was all overlaid with a tension peculiar to them alone that fit the music exactly. Their basic skating, not to mention footwork, spins, and unison on all the big tricks, blew everyone who had come before out of the water. The DRD flower-machines had to call in reinforcements to gather up all the flowers and stuffed animals.

The judges--a motley group of five that tended to scare little children who looked in their direction--agreed with the cheering audience, giving the pair a string of 5.9s and the occasional 6.0. John almost felt sorry for Katralla and Tyno, having to skate after those kinds of marks were read out loud.

Katralla and Tyno were none too pleased about it, either. They started out strong, but halfway through, botched their side-by-side triple toe loops. (At least, as commentator Rick Zipper pointed out, their butt-first landings were in perfect unison.) From there on, it was an exercise in not slipping further than second place, and the disappointment was evident in every movement they made.

The judges' marks put the pair firmly in second. The fact that they were that high spoke for either the quality of their basic skating and their other elements or the complete lack of depth in the UT pairs field. Given the splatfest that had preceded John and Aeryn's skate, the latter was looking more likely.

After the standings were shown to the fans in the stands; Rick Zipper, Meggy Plumbing, Petra Corrupters, and Merry Mannon had wrapped up the commentary for UT-TV; and the DRD flower-machines had swept every flower, furry toy, and sequin from the ice, everyone headed for his or her cell. Tomorrow was scheduled to be a long day of practice and competition.

* * *

_Thursday, January 25. A dark alley on Moya._

"So you're still working on them?"

"Yes."

"How far?"

"I definitely have one. Definitely. And there's two more that are about to fall into my hands. Just give me a little more time..."

"Time?! I skate tomorrow! I don't *have* time!" A skate blade was brandished. The figure it was talking to loomed over the brandisher, and the skate blade was quickly put away.

"Well...just remember who's paying you." With that, the one with skates flounced away. In the other direction, a man with a hat and a violin case shuffled off, a worried expression on his face.

* * *

_Back at the rink..._

The afternoon was set aside for the compulsory dances, the first of three phases in the ice dance competition. Not long before the competition was set to begin, Chiana and Jool were arguing over who was going to skate the man's part in each dance.

"Let's think about this," Chiana said. "You, scientist. Me, tralk. There shouldn't be any argument. Besides, you're at least a few millimetras taller than me with the hair."

"You know very well that we're exactly the same height, with or without hair, and..."

"Girls, enough!" Granny called, finally brought out of her perpetual reverie by the raised voices. "You'll change parts for each of the dances. You both get to wear dresses the each of them anyway."

Jool and Chiana spared each other and Granny calculating glances. "I want Tango," Chi said.

Jool agreed. "I want Waltz."

"Thank God," Granny muttered.

* * *

Grayza and Braca had drawn the first lot for the Tango Romantica. Being a tango and, thus, very staccato, it was well-suited to what little style they had. Grayza, in her red and black (in the rare places that weren't covered in flesh-toned fabric that was badly matched to her skin) dress, flounced and stomped her way through the two circuits around the rink, faux pain that was attempting to be ferocity coloring her features. Braca just tried to stay upright and hold on.

It wasn't long before it was Chiana and Jool's turn. The same damn tango music that they'd heard all afternoon blared over the comm system, and Chi gave a little groan. *We have an entire galaxy to chose from. Couldn't they find more than two tango recordings?*

Apparently not. They started to skate the sinuous path that the Tango Romantica pattern made around the rink. Chiana had wanted to have a little knife to stick under Jool's shoulder for more authenticity and greater representation of the character of the dance, but had been dissuaded by Jool's assertion that Chi was already more than suited for the role of Argentinean prostitute. Besides, IPSU regulations didn't allow props.

Halfway through the second pattern, Chiana felt her toepick catch a rut in the ice. She fell forward slightly, saved from a full-out fall only by Jool's timely catch. "Toepick!" the Interion whispered angrily as they got back up to speed.

They got a few sympathy tenths of points for being "just so cute," but ended up in second behind Grayza and Braca. A quick pause for competitors to change costumes from Tango Romantica to Golden Waltz, and it was time for the second compulsory.

The skate order remained the same. Grayza and Braca delivered what was becoming standard for them: Grayza got the steps mostly right and almost managed to project the correct emotion, and Braca kept his skates under him, mostly. It received another round of mediocre scores that could still win them that portion, and they waited with smug smiles for the rest of the pack to skate.

Chiana and Jool had changed gender roles in between the two dances. The flowy waltz was actually more suited to them than the tango. Or perhaps it was just more suited to Jool's flowy hair. At any rate, the cheering of the three people who had turned out to watch was louder for them than for any of the others.

The judges, by a bare margin, gave them the upset. When the majority one ordinals appeared on the scoreboard, happy screeching came from the two girls. When metal in the general area of the Kiss &amp; Cry began to bend, Jool stopped her scream and instead hugged her partner.

From backstage, a less-than-pleased Grayza contemplated the marks. She turned to look at her partner. "I thought you had engaged services to take care of this problem."

Braca quivered. "Yes, ma'am, I did. I...was told that suspicion would be aroused if we won too easily. The waltz will not hold us back."

Grayza glared at him. "See that it doesn't."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

_That evening, around seven o'clock._

The men's short program was one of the more well-attended events of the week. Attractive males of various species wearing tight pants tended to appeal to the usually-female fans of the sport.

The warm-up for the final flight was an exercise in fake-outs and near-misses. Larraq and Velorek seemed to target each other, D'Argo went after everyone under the pretense of getting the movements accurate for his martial arts-themed program, and DK just tried to stay under everyone's radar. Transferring from another federation would get him enough flak as it was.

Velorek was up first. As he stepped onto the ice, he declared, "I dedicate my program to Aeryn Sun!"

Those in the general vicinity groaned, except for Larraq, whose groan was more along the lines of a growl. Granny, his coach, shook her head. "Men," she muttered.

Velorek's program wasn't bad. If you didn't count the step-outs on the quad salchow and triple axel and the several feet of traveling on the camel spin, it wasn't bad at all. Velorek received his marks, which ranged from 5.5 to 5.8, with a satisfied smile.

A few of the many audience members who had fainted at the mere sight of Velorek, Larraq, and DK on the same ice together began to come back to the land of the conscious, and continued to do so all through Larraq's program. He had dedicated his still-unseen quadruple lutz to Aeryn, prompting another "Men!" from Granny, who was also his coach. In fact, she was the coach of all the men. And women. And pairs. And dance teams. No one could quite figure out how she split her time so effectively.

As most suspected he would, Larraq blew the quad jump. Velorek gloated as Larraq finished out the program, and gloated some more as Larraq dropped into second place behind him by a few tenths of a point. When he noticed how close it was, he quit gloating quite so openly. When he noticed the calculating glances that Larraq was sending his way, cogs began to turn in his own brain.

D'Argo and DK grabbed third and fourth places, respectively, with decently clean programs. Interestingly, though everyone could remember what jumps each man had done, no one, not even the competitors themselves, could quite remember the music that each had skated to. When interviewed some time after the competition, the sound tech, a girl by the name of Gilina, replied that she'd left the same CD in for each of the four. "Well, they didn't seem to mind," was her justification. When pressed for comment on the emphasis of technical content over musicality and presentation in singles skating, the head of the IPSU refused to return calls.


	3. Chapter 3

_Friday, January 26._

"Is there a reason our event always gets stuck in the afternoon?" Jool mused aloud in the dressing room as she got into her costume for the original dance.

"'Cause no one watches it?" Chiana quipped as she adjusted the fringe on her skirt.

It was unfortunately true. A combination of less-than-trustworthy judging, little for the untrained eye to understand about the scoring, and the current trend towards hideous costumes led to ice dance's spot at the bottom of the popularity list for figure skating events.

However, ice dancing's relative lack of support wasn't for lack of trying by the competitors. This season's original dance rhythm was the rumba, which, in the ballroom world it came from, was usually defined as "a vertical expression of a horizontal desire." Add to that the exhibitionist tendencies of most ice dancers, and...well.

Jool and Chiana went head to head against Grayza and Braca at the end of the competition. The girls were first, with a sexy, sultry dance that made great use of Chiana's general tralky demeanor. They slunk around the rink like cats, and performed two lifts--one with Chiana as the support, the other using Jool in that position. Perhaps it wasn't as polished as it could've been, but by far it was the most rumba-ish of the night.

The mere idea of Grayza attempting to do sexy to rumba music sent half the audience running, and her and Braca's program itself got rid of the rest of them. They twice brought new meaning to the term "gyno-lift," and the judges desperately wished that they could crawl under their table.

The audience trickled back in as the marks were being processed, and were pretty much all seated by the time the marks for composition began to be read.

It was brutal. Not for Grayza and Braca, but for everyone else. By the barest margin, they had taken the lead in the original dance.

The crowd loudly booed the marks. Grayza, ever oblivious to the fans in her quest for higher placings, took her partner's face between her hands and kissed him soundly on the mouth. As he was recovering, she said, "I see you did take care of our problem. Why did I ever doubt you would?"

Braca decided that there was no good answer to that question, and turned his attention to the audience, which was still less-than-thrilled with the team's placement, despite not having actually seen the program. Each of them highly doubted that it would've been better than what the two had done before. Braca decided to put extra security outside their cell, just in case.

Meanwhile, Jool and Chiana had watched the marks go up from backstage, breathless with anticipation. When they found that Grayza and Braca were ahead of them, the reaction was loud and clear.

"WHAT THE FRELL?!"

The exclamation came from both of them. Realizing that she might be needed to forestall serious injury to one of her teams by the other one, Granny made her way back from congratulating Braca and Grayza in the Kiss &amp; Cry to take care of the latest emotional crisis.

Jool was sniffling, and Chiana looked ready to do some serious damage with a skate blade. Granny gave a small sigh of resignation as Chi focused on her coach.

"What the frell is this? We skated the best we've ever done. We were practically having sex out there!"

"My dear, that is just the way the cookie crumbles. The judges put you in second, so now you have to work that much harder for the free dance."

Chiana and Jool glared at their coach, then simultaneously turned and stomped--as much as you can stomp in skates--down the hall towards the dressing rooms, muttering vague threats as they flounced their skirts in their coach's general direction.

* * *

_Friday evening._

Still under the mistaken impression that ladies singles' skating was the most popular of the four different events, the organizers of the competition had scheduled it in the prime times during the weekend. Everyone knew the ladies were the least popular with the general fan populace, which was largely female, and who largely came to nationals for the male skaters and their butts. But whatever.

Ro-NA bubbled her way through her short program and finished with a smile that bordered on maniacal crowning her face. Little girls cheered and threw flower bouquets for her. When the DRDs brought the flowers to where the Jakench was sitting in the Kiss &amp; Cry, ro-NA won their little mechanical hearts (and made just about everyone else feel violently ill) by giving each of them a quick peck on what could possibly be considered a cheek. Rick Zipper, apparently immune to the insulin shock that was affecting everyone else on the Terrace, proclaimed, "Isn't she just so cute? I just want to pinch those little cheeks."

Meggy Plumbing, usually less than observant, wisely changed the subject of the commentary as Zhaan prepared to take the ice.

The Delvian's program, though it included almost the same technical content as ro-NA's, was as different as night from day from the younger woman's. Her music was "Blue," by an Earth artists called Joni Mitchell. One couldn't help but appreciate the appropriateness of the piece. The contemplative choreography matched the music, and if you liked that sort of thing, was good enough to beat ro-NA's sparkle. The judges gave Zhaan the win by a hair. There was a little grumbling from the audience about "those frelling Delvians, they have too much influence with the judges, I've always said," but the overall consensus was that while Zhaan had won this go-round, she should watch her back during the long program.

* * *

_Later that evening. A dark alley on Moya._

A man with a club snuck behind a trash can.* He was coming. Just a few more moments and his victory would be assured...

"OW!" screamed the man behind the trashcan. "You bloody bastard!" He threw his club wildly, managing by sheer luck alone to hit his attacker on the same knee he himself was holding in agony.

"AUGH! I'm telling the federation president!"

"So'm I!"

They paused. "Dren. Never mind." Each began to crawl out of the alley, wincing in pain with each movement.

* Why, exactly, a trash can was sitting in a hall on Moya is a mystery. Suffice to say that it was there, and it was used.

* * *

_Even later that evening. Near guest quarters on Moya._

John was never able to sleep the night before big competitions. Instead, he took to the halls like some intergalactic phantom of the opera, wandering around and trying to exhaust himself enough to get some sleep. In one of the hallways, he stumbled across ro-NA.

She put her book down when she heard John approach. He smiled. "Uh, hi there."

She returned the greeting and patted the space beside her. John sat down. Every time he saw her, he felt an incredible sense of deja vu, like he had known this woman before, and very well at that.

They talked about the competition for a while and complimented each other's performance. The conversation was carried on in whispers, their heads close together and intimate-looking, so as not to wake any of the other competitors sleeping on the hall.

John eventually asked, "Hey, are you up for a snack? There's some leftover food cubes in the mess hall, I'm sure..."

Ro-NA smiled. At that, Aeryn, who was hiding around the bend in the corridor, stood to leave. She had seen quite enough, thank you very much, and it was useless to continue to watch John chat up the singles skater, who looked more interested in him with every word. She hung her head and padded back to her own quarters, asking herself questions like "What am I? Chopped foodcubes?" along the way.

Meanwhile, ro-NA's reply to John was, "I don't think that would be a very good idea. My husband would wonder where I was."

John was dumbstruck. "Husband?" The concept couldn't seem to latch on to his brain.

"Yes. He's sleeping inside." She nodded her head at the door to her room. "His name is Ben. I think you'd get on quite well with him, actually..."


	4. Chapter 4

_Saturday, January 27. Afternoon._

It was an hour before the pairs LP was to start when John and Aeryn arrived back at the Terrace rink from getting a few food cubes in the mess hall. They quickly changed into their costumes (more black leather, this time with blue accents) and emerged from the dressing rooms at more or less the same time.

It was just as they found each other in the crowded backstage area that they heard a simultaneous "Johnny, dear!" and "Aeryn, pet!"

John and Aeryn also had a simultaneous reaction. "Oh, frell."

They both attempted retreat to the dressing rooms, but it was too late. Their mothers had spotted them and were fast converging, like a train wreck waiting to happen.

Leslie Crichton and Xhalax Sun swept their respective offspring into overperfumed hugs. Said offspring endured the embraces with a stoic calm and a grimace. As quickly as they could, both John and Aeryn extricated themselves from their mothers.

"Uh, Mom," John began. "What are you doing here? The Uncharted Territories are a pretty long way away from Earth."

"As are your usual haunts, Mother," Aeryn added, not quite as diplomatically as her partner.

Leslie Crichton took a quick swig from the flask in her hand. "You didn't think I'd miss my baby boy winning nationals, did you?"

Well, he'd hoped she would, yes... "Mom, we haven't won yet."

"Yes, but you're *going* to, right Xhalax?" Leslie put her arm around the Sebacean woman.

"Of course, Les," Aeryn's mother replied, not at all perturbed by the alcoholic fumes emanating from her companion. "You're better than those snooty royal types."

"That Katralla should quit raiding the royal kitchens, I think," Leslie said, "or that wimpy partner of hers won't be able to lift her."

"Mom!"

"Now, now, John, just because you skated with her when you were children doesn't mean you have to stick up for her. She's your competition now."

Granny arrived on the scene before anything more could develop. She tapped Leslie and Xhalax on the shoulders and then pointed across the rink. "Aren't those your seats? It looks like someone's trying to steal them."

The two mothers looked annoyed. "The hezmana they will," Xhalax said as she and John's mother scurried towards the other side of the Terrace. "I want a front row seat to see my baby win!"

When Granny looked back at her pupils, she found both of them looking like they would gladly burrow into the ground to get away from the snickering that surrounded them. She sighed. "Come on, you two. Get out there and warm up." She didn't think she'd ever seen them happier to get on the ice.

It wasn't going to last long. It usually didn't. As John lifted her into a star lift, Aeryn asked, "So how are things between you and ro-NA?"

John nearly dropped her. "What do you mean?" He helped Aeryn exit the lift, and then they continued their conversation as they set up for side-by-side triple toe loops.

"You and her looked rather...cozy last ni--um, this week."

"Cozy? Aeryn, she's married."

"Wh--what?"

John didn't miss the little sigh of relief that she let out. He began to smile as he completed his jump. "Don't tell me you were...jealous."

"Of course not!" Aeryn's hands would've been on her hips had he not pulled her into their pairs combination spin. Despite her denial, John knew she was. And this...this could work very much in his favor. He didn't press her for the rest of the warm-up. He had bigger ideas on his mind.

John didn't even pay attention as Katralla and Tyno skated. He assumed, by the applause level, that they had done fairly well. When he and Aeryn were announced, he took her hand and skated out to the center of the rink with her, careful to not give away anything that was on his mind.

When the music came on, they began to snap along with it. It was "Fever," and they had a sexy, swing-influenced program to go with it. As had become their habit, they nailed everything, from jumps to spins to lifts. As the song ended, John pulled Aeryn out of her position low to the ice in their death spiral and up into their final pose. That was where choreography ended and instinct took over. John kissed his partner full on the lips.

He didn't know what he expected when they broke apart. A slap, maybe, or perhaps a toepick in a very uncomfortable place. The smile he got from Aeryn was unexpected, but very welcome. After a moment spent basking in it, he was called back to reality by the cheering of the crowd. Aeryn turned her grin to the crowd, and they bowed to acknowledge the applause...and attempted to ignore their mothers' catcalls. Well, the world couldn't be perfect.

* * *

_That evening._

The men took the ice for one last warm-up before their programs. The sight of Larraq, Velorek, and DK all in leather--tight leather--was too much for the audience.* The entire audience, save two or three holdouts, made an audible *thud* as they crashed to the floor, unconscious.

It took several minutes to revive them enough for the competition to continue.

Larraq and Velorek were the first two to skate. Both had pronounced limps, and were incapable of landing their quad jumps, or much of anything else, for that matter. Rick Zipper called it courage. Meggy Plumbing called it idiocy. Merry Mannon reminded the viewers at home that Larraq's favorite color was black and that Velorek had a dog named Fluffy.

The rest of the event was a walk over for D'Argo and DK, whose programs, while not particularly memorable, at least managed to get them through the elements with a modicum of presentation. D'Argo took first place, DK second, and Larraq and Velorek's marks were so low that the judges called them even and had them share third.

* In fact, almost all the competitors had made some use of leather. It seemed to be the prevailing theme of the competition. 562703--the Year of Leather.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sunday, January 28. Afternoon._

The day of their triumph was at hand. Or so Mele-on Grayza thought, anyway. She stomped and flounced her her way through their tango program, baring as much cleavage as possible. She debated attempting to fling some of her pheromone sweat at the judges as they passed by, but decided that might be just a bit too obvious, even for her. Besides, the Delvian had already assured them their win, or so Braca told her. Even if the Nebari and the Interion made no mistakes--Grazya sighed as Braca tripped over his own feet for the fifth time in the program--they couldn't lose.

The marks seemed to bear her thoughts out. It would be fairly difficult for Chiana and Jool to topple Grayza and Braca.

However, that was what they intended to do. This program was their masterpiece, their secret weapon, and their dark horse surprise all rolled into one. It had six lifts, three each for both Jool and Chiana, all of which were relatively attractive, especially in comparison to Grayza and Braca's. The footwork was far more complicated than anything Braca could ever have dreamed of pulling off, and almost beyond the range of Grayza. Their music was a song called "All the Things She Said," by an Earth duo called Tatu. Granny had assured them that it was most appropriate for their particular style.

All the pieces were there; now they just had to rise to the occasion and put it all together. With grim determination, they stepped onto the ice and skated out to the center, hands joined. They smirked and swished their skirts at the audience, who cheered and catcalled appreciatively, especially the men who had been dragged to the event by their wives and girlfriends. The music began, and the girls launched into their choreography.

As the last note trembled away and Jool and Chiana struck their final position, the audience paused to contemplate the phenomenal lifts, dazzling spins, and particularly difficult-looking diagonal footwork, as well as the intense emotion the two had put into their skating. Then they burst into applause and exploded with flowers, which the DRDs did their best to gather up. Jool and Chi grinned as they curtseyed to acknowledge the applause. There was no way they hadn't won.

Grayza, watching from the side, was quite certain that they hadn't. Oh, she admitted to herself that the girls had been better. She was vain, not stupid. However, she also had faith that Braca, her loyal servan--er, partner, and the Delvian had managed to, ah, "convince" the judges that there was merit to sending the more experienced team to the Inter-Planetary Championships.

Chi and Jool made their way to the Kiss &amp; Cry, high-fiving each other and accepting handfuls of flowers from DRDs along the way. As they stepped off the ice, Chi turned to the audience and crowed, "Jirl power!"

There was mild tittering over what that might mean, and then the crowd settled down to await the marks. It took a long time, and much glaring from one judge to another, before the marks for composition were announced. They were almost even with Grayza's and Braca's. And then the marks for presentation appeared on the scoreboard. The Nebari and the Interion blinked into first place on the leaderboard.

The Terrace erupted into cheers from all sides. Everyone except, of course, Grayza was happy with the results.

Grayza looked around for her partner, murder seething in her eyes. Braca, in a wise move on his part, was nowhere to be seen. She would find him, though. And then he would pay. A smile pricked at the corners of her mouth as she thought about exactly how he would pay.

* * *

_A few minutes after the Free Dance. That same dark alley we've seen before._

Braca had run to meet Scorpius as soon as he'd stepped off the ice. He had no desire to face his partner when she found out that they had lost--as he and his commander had planned all along. There was no possible way that they could have won. He'd seen to that, with subtle--and some not-so-subtle--mistakes all throughout the free dance.

As soon as he could, Scorpius appeared in the alley. "Sir!" Braca exclaimed, running up to his commander. If he'd had a tail, it would have been wagging. "I did just as you asked. Grayza and I are the second-place finishers, are we not?"

Scorpius smiled, showing teeth that could've used serious dental attention several years ago. "Of course, Braca. You did well." He couldn't resist patting his underling on the head.

Braca also smiled, then sobered. "If I may ask, sir, why did you have me sabotage the program?"

Scorpius frowned. His reasons boiled down to one word: Grayza. "Your partner is the devil incarnate. This seemed the best way to strike her a blow she won't soon recover from. Besides, I know you don't care if you win or lose. If you were serious about ice dance, you'd have long hair."

Braca couldn't dispute that.

* * *

_Back at the rink, and heading on into evening..._

The medal ceremony was a triumph for Chiana and Jool. It was less so for the competition organizers, who couldn't find either of the silver medalists anywhere they looked. The fans didn't much care one way or the other; Grayza and Braca not showing up just gave them more to be catty about on internet message boards.

Soon after the ceremony, it was time for the ladies final. Zhaan was the second-to-last to skate, followed only by ro-NA. Though confident of her impending win, the Delvian still put her all into her program to "Here Comes the Sun,"* which came complete with choreographic interpretations of photogasms. The only problem was a slight step-out on her triple lutz. She recovered so quickly, though, that it was questionable whether all the judges even had time to see it.

After reading Zhaan's more than respectable marks, the announcer introduced ro-NA, and the little woman skated to the center of the rink. She had chosen to do a completely different program than her short, this time to a melancholy song called "Winter." She drew the audience into her frosty spell, not missing a beat when she jumped and spun. It was one of the most riveting performances ever given at an Uncharted Territories nationals, and even Rick Zipper and Meggy Plumbing couldn't bring themselves to speak during the entire thing.

Everyone was sure that with a performance like that, ro-NA couldn't help but win. There was no question about it, and since they were sure they knew the winner, some members of the audience began to think about leaving in order to beat the traffic.

The marks were read. They were close, so very close to Zhaan's...the judges wouldn't give anyone a clear lead if they could help it...and then they were done. Ro-NA's name appeared on the leaderboard...in second place.

Loud boos emerged from the throats of all the fans. It was a good thing for the judges those boos were aimed at that all weapons had been taken away from the fans upon entrance to Moya. As Rick and Meggy screamed about the injustice of it all, UT-TV cameras zoomed in on ro-NA's tearstained face backstage.

In the hullabaloo, everyone missed the satisfied smile that crossed a certain Delvian's face as he sat near the rear of the stands on the judges' side of the rink.

* Interestingly, the vast majority of the competitors used music from twentieth century Earth. No one quite knows how this happened, although John Crichton was seen giving Granny a small music-playing machine and several round, shiny objects which he called "CDs" towards the start of the competitive season. It is the author's opinion that, as always, it is all Crichton's fault.

* * *

_A few minutes later. A room off the Terrace._

Rygel and Pilot had gathered the five judges--Sikozu, Scorpius, Crais, Maldis, and Stark--together to examine the results of the ladies competition. Rygel took the lead in the interrogation. "All right, who bribed you and how much were you supposed to get?" As a rule, the head of the IPSU wasn't against a little bribery on the side, but it had to at least *look* legitimate. Otherwise it was just bad press.

Long moments went by as each judge attempted to look as innocent as possible. For the motley crew, it was a rather difficult task.

Just as Rygel was about to speak again, Stark abruptly burst into tears. "I did it!" he sobbed, standing up and beginning to pace around the table. "I was pressured! You don't know how hard it is to be a judge! The Delvian mob wants me to sleep with the fishes! MOMMY!!!" Stark slumped miserably in his chair and placed his head on his arms, crying and hiccuping loudly.

Rygel stared at the sobbing Banik, disgust plastered over his features. "He's yours, you deal with him!" he said to Pilot.

Pilot gaped at Rygel. "You're the head of the IPSU. Shouldn't you be doing something about this, too?"

Rygel paused. "I suppose I could come up with a new scoring system that would cover up this kind of nonsense with weird point values...no, that would be too much trouble. Just get him out of here. And someone figure out a way to pacify that mob out there!" His point was loudly illustrated by the angry roar of the disappointed audience members back on the Terrace.

Several DRDs approached and nudged Stark into standing up. As they led him back to his quarters, Stark mumbled about Delvians and violin cases. Pilot told one of the DRDs to monitor and record the Banik's ramblings so that they would have something with which to prosecute this mysterious mobster.

Silence again feel over the room as those who remained thought about to how deal with the angry fans outside. It was Sikozu who came up with the solution. "Could we just give them both gold medals? With Stark gone, you have two of us who went with ro-NA and two who went with Zhaan."

Pilot and Rygel contemplated the suggestion. At last, Rygel said, "That ought to shut them up."

"And it wouldn't be hard to make another medal," Pilot said. "It sounds like a splendid idea, Sikozu." The Kalish beamed.

Rygel had already directed his hoverthrone back to the Terrace. He went up to the winners' podium and picked up a microphone. "Listen up, you lot!" The audience gradually quieted. Rygel told them about the new developments. It seemed to appease the majority of them, although there were scattered mumblings of "Damn Delvians, too many judges like 'em just for bein' blue..."

Zhaan, though shocked and outraged that she had to share her medal with the little upstart of a woman, was nevertheless glad that, so far, at least, no one had approached her about her connection to the scandal. If necessary, she could leave the Uncharted Territories and go...somewhere. No one would go to the trouble of extraditing a figure skater, would they?


	6. Chapter 6

_Monday, January 29. Afternoon._

The exhibitions opened with a few remarks from Pilot and Rygel, mostly concerning the ongoing investigation into the Delvian mob's connection with the results of the ladies' final, and then the ice was given over to the opening act, a synchronized skating team of five women introduced as Mama Crichton's Daughters.

John raised his eyebrow at that introduction and looked for his sisters among the skaters. When he didn't find Susan or Olivia, he chalked it up as something he would never understand about this part of the universe, and settled back to watch the team. The five skaters created intricate shapes of...martini glasses? Vodka bottles? John blinked. Too little sleep, that, was it. He was seeing things. The image of his mother wildly and drunkenly cheering the team on most certainly did not exist in reality.

The exhibitions of the other medal winners went off without too many hitches. Grayza and Braca did not skate, given that Braca had escaped with Scorpius and Grayza was following behind, ready for blood.

Finally it was John's and Aeryn's turn. They had prepared their exhibition while hiding their emotions from each other. It would be a new experience having the acting actually match what they felt.

It went smashingly. They flowed along the ice and between each other to the unmatched beauty and romanticism of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. And in the end, as they had found over the past few days, they were complete with each other, as any pair should be.

* * *

_Very late that night._

The Terrace would be de-iced early the next morning. Little Blue and 1812 knew that this would be their only chance. They skittered onto the ice and began to make lazy circles, staying as close to one another as they could.

They chittered back and forth to each other. Chiana would have translated the conversation as something along the lines of "This is so nice, babe. Do you wanna go back to my place tonight?"

Gradually, other DRDs joined Little Blue and 1812 on the ice, each on their own dates. It was almost like a warped version of a high school prom for the little machines. There was no music, but that didn't matter. Every once in a while, 1812 would play his signature tune to liven things up a little.

Eventually, though, the Terrace emptied, the DRDs, including Little Blue and 1812, going back to their own little areas to end their dates as they pleased. Thus ended the 562703 Nationals and all the excitement that had come with them. Until next year, anyway...


End file.
